Wibbly Wobbly Rhymey Wimey
by Bunnyapocalypse96
Summary: Amy and Rory wake up in the TARDIS one morning to find that something strange has happened to them and the Doctor. What is the cause of this development and will they be able to put a stop to it?


On a morning in the TARDIS much like others were, the two Ponds woke with a dreadful stir. Their slumber had been untimely broke by the abrupt entrance of a Time Lord bloke.

"Ah, Ponds!" he grinned as he opened the door, "I'm betting you've never seen _this_ before!"

The Doctor held up a small piece of rock, but this was not the cause of his companions' shock. No, they had noted something else a bit strange. Not that strangeness, in their lives, was much of a change.

The Doctor frowned at their faces, opening his mouth to speak, but abruptly shut up again and gave his bowtie a tweak.

"For a moment there, I thought I sensed that something was off," he told the married couple with a humorous scoff, "But that would silly, to say the least. Nothing's the matter, no need to get our brows creased!"

With a small gasp of shock Amy realised what was wrong, but just to be certain, she tried to help it along. "Doctor," she asked, "Did your words just rhyme?"

"It most certainly wouldn't be the first time."

Hearing his own words, Rory clapped a hand over his mouth. Then, removing his fingers: "I believe that something's gone south."

Amy looked dumbstruck, stating "You just did it, too!" Then, worriedly, "What's happening to the two of you?"

"It's not just us," Rory said, looking at her, "You're talking like a slam-poetry regular."

"Did you hear that?" The Doctor said, throwing a suspicious eye, "Filling the gaps in our rhymes. Sounds like it's coming from the sky."

"What, like a narrator?" Amy inquired.

"Exactly," the Doctor said, "relaying everything that's transpired.'

"I can hear it," Rory told them with surety, "Keeping up the rhyme's rhythm, someone we can't see."

"Precisely what's happening, that's what we need to know," said the Doctor worriedly, getting ready to go, "You two follow me, we're moving to the console room."

Following, Amy muttered: "It's too early for all this doom and gloom."

As the threesome entered the room where the console stood, the Doctor turned on his scanners, hoping this would do some good. Flipping switches and levers, the alien toiled fervently, but all to no avail, as the Ponds came to see.

"Nothing!" he exclaimed, frustration clear in his air. The Time Lord angrily put his hands in his hair, "We can't rhyme forever— I would go mad!"

"I agree," Amy said, "that would be bad."

Then Rory reprised: "Oh, I don't know. I've always wanted to give poetry a go."

"Well now's your chance," the Doctor said, "And while you do that, I'll see that we don't wind up dead."

Then, abrupt as a lightning bolt, resolve struck the Time Lord with an ingenious jolt. With a small, cunning smile, the Doctor opened his hand; looking at what lay there, like a small grain of sand. It was the rock that he to his companions did show. A rock of which the origin the Doctor did not know.

Without another word, the Doctor sped off to do a scan, the Ponds staring after the justly named mad man. As the Doctor began scanning with some jabs and a poke, Amy turned an ear to the ceiling, where the narrator spoke.

"T'was the night before Christmas…" she muttered ineloquently. Then, with a frown: "Wait, did the narrator just insult me?"

"Narrators don't insult people," her idiot husband assured. "Oi!" he said loudly, "_That_ insult I heard!"

A "_ding!"_ sounded from the console, and attentions were turned. Both of the Ponds were eager to know what the Doctor had learned.

Picking up the pebble, the alien stared at it in dismay. "I never thought that I'd see the day…"

"What is it, what's happened?" Amy, annoyingly eager, wanted to know.

"You, Narrator, can shut it," Rory said. He was still just as slow.

"It's the Quinox," the Doctor told them, his voice thick with worry, "Oh, my dear Ponds, I am so very sorry."

"Who're the Quinox?" Amy asked the man, "How do you know it's them, the results of the scan?"

"Indeed," the Doctor confirmed with a nod of his head, "And I really do wish it could have been something else instead. The Quinox are a very old race. Poets, the lot of them, I'd say the best ones in space. Only the problem is that they don't just rhyme for sports. No—the Quinox aren't really peaceful sorts. They use these tiny, pretty pebbles to lure you in. Then, when they've got you, the fun can begin. First, they make you rhyme and that isn't so bad, but eventually they can control conversations that are had. After a while, they get into your head. My guess is that happened to us while we were asleep in bed. Now, here's the kicker, so don't get a fright; that voice you're hearing is not the narrator, it's a parasite."

His companions gasped, fear filling their eyes. "What do we do now?" Rory asked, "How long before one of us dies?"

"I have a plan," the Doctor reassured him confidently, "It's not a good one at the moment, but in the future, who knows? We'll see."

"Well, tell us quickly," Amy said, taking Rory's hand. Her flight mechanism was taking over and idly she could no longer stand.

"It seems that the bug controls you via wavelength to your head," the Doctor, in his most authoritarian voice, said, "I'm betting I can use the sonic to break this connection. Only problem is, I'll have to time everything to perfection. The pebble can only be broken open once, you see, and when this happens, the parasite will attack the first person it finds—namely me. Finding the right setting on the sonic to succeed is going to be a gamble, but I think this option's better than having your brain scrambled."

Rory said: "This sounds like it could take some time. Doesn't the parasite take over the more we rhyme?"

The Doctor nodded his affirmation. "That's why the second part of my plan is suited to your situation. My mind's all big and vast—it'll take a long time to control to say the least, so the parasite is now rigged on you for its next feast. That's why you need to beat it; Show it who's king. Use a word that doesn't rhyme with anything!"

"You mean like—orange?" Amy asked uncertainly.

"Exactly!" the Time Lord exclaimed, face lighting up with glee.

The Doctor turned to the console where the pebble lay, hearing exclamations of "Orange!" at his back all the way. With a smile that quickly turned to concentration, he lifted the sonic, filled with a sense of determination. Setting three, he thought, turning the dial accordingly. Hoping upon hope that the next hour he would live to see.

With the sonic in his left hand and a hammer in his right, the Doctor looked at the small pebble. Such a pretty sight. As much of a shame as smashing it would be, the Doctor had to do this to set his companions free.

And so he did it, bringing the hammer down, swiftly switching the sonic to setting four with a doubtful frown. The smashing of the pebble nearly threw him off his chair, as from the pretty little rock a startlingly large shadow did tear. The thing looming over him, he lifted his screwdriver, thinking that he'd be rich if for every monster he had a fiver…

Pressing the button on his tiny machine, the high-pitched sonic wailing was drowned out by a scream. The scream wasn't human, not even remotely so. It was the sound of the dying parasite throwing a show. The thing fumbled and flailed, melting to the ground, until finally disappearing without a trace. Without a sound.

"Is it over? Orange," Amy asked softly, letting go of Rory's hand and stepping towards the spot where the monster had been.

"No sign of the rude narrator in my head. Orange," Rory said quietly.

The Doctor was breathing heavily. With a wry smile, he lifted the sonic screwdriver to his lips and kissed it. He really had to stop depending on luck to save him some day, but today was not that day.

"Doctor? Orange," Amy repeated, "Are we safe? Orange."

The Doctor chuckled. "Yes, we're safe. You can stop saying orange now."

"Oh, thank goodness," she said, breathing a heavy sigh of relief, "For a moment there, I thought I was going to have to continue using orange as a punctuation mark for the rest of my days."

"It's better than having to put up with talking in nursery rhymes for the rest of your life," the Doctor grinned. He moved over to his friends and put an arm around each of them. "So, adventure this early in the morning, where do we go from here?"

"Back to bed," Amy said, slipping out from under the Doctor's arm and grabbing Rory by the hand, "We'll be up around noon, so don't come and wake us before then, alright Raggedy Man?"

The Doctor smiled. "Alright."

He watched his two best friends in the universe return to their room and happily trotted off to work on the TARDIS until they were ready for another adventure.


End file.
